


are we ever gonna learn to fly?

by LearaBribage



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables (TV 2000), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, EnjonineWeek, EnjonineWeek2019, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, day 3: fallen, enjonine - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-08-19 10:08:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20207998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LearaBribage/pseuds/LearaBribage
Summary: A protest does not go as intended, and Éponine must deal with the consequences. Enjolras asks forgiveness.





	are we ever gonna learn to fly?

_And I can see the pain in you_

* * *

Usually, when protests go awry, they established a fair set of rules with the group.

_Disappear into the crowd. Change attire as you go. Ease into the meeting points with your partners. Then get away. If medical help is required, get away first and treat it once safe in transit._

Éponine snorted. She was fine, really, except that her partner for today, _her boyfriend_, ran too late before the police sprayed them with water from the firetrucks. Enjolras went nyoooom from point A to point B, straight to a BLEEEPING tree.

Yes, she has to say BLEEEPING because, she promised him she’d try to lessen those thingamabobs. He said, “It helps you have a clearer focus and control, especially when you’re a few seconds from bashing a petulant forty year old customer’s head.”

Huh, yeah, sure. She’ll bash his head for getting hurt. Again. Whatever. It’s even more annoying that she has to drag his body a bit, and mind you, he’s quite _heavy_, which is weird, you’d think, given how he wasn’t the type to go to the gym much.

Lifting books in libraries for his thesis was probably the only workout she ever saw him do, and that’s _not even counted_. So, to borrow Outlander hottie Sam Heughan’s phrase, he probably has “crazy genes”. Whatever, sure, it wouldn’t hurt to suppose that those genes could stop this idiot from putting himself in front of danger and getting hurt, yeah?

She huffed, ignoring the tears falling from her eyes as she heard him grunt in hurt. Shaking her head, she wiped it away and held him more tightly beside her.

“Please, Enj, Prouv’s gonna pick us up soon. Just a few more steps, goddamit,” she insisted, trying not to panic when he almost fell.

“A’ight,” he murmured, groaning as he leaned on her more. He turned his head, nuzzling against her hair. “Sorry.”

She didn’t answer as they stopped in front of an alley. _Five minutes, _the text from Jehan read. Éponine heaved, hauling Enjolras against the wall so she can check how bad it was.

“Stay awake, idiot,” she ordered, patting his cheeks. Enjolras groaned, but nodded as she gingerly felt over his black shirt to touch his sides and back. His breath hitched over those areas, and Éponine closed her eyes, sighing.

“Not like this, you told me,” anger seeping in her voice, as she placed her forehead over his. Enjolras held her face, and only then did Éponine let herself freely cry.

“Look at me.”

“No,” adamantly said it was, she still found her hands clasping his.But still, she did not listen. 

He let her be for a while before kissing her hair. Caressing her cheeks, he tried again, the exhaustion colouring his voice. “Look at me.”

Éponine looked up at him. “I mean it,” he whispered before kissing her, his hands threading her tresses, “Not like this.”

He deepened the kiss, and she clutched his shirt. His fingers traced the outline of her spine, their code for, _I’m with you, now and always_.

She shivered when his tongue slanted over hers, his way of saying, _I’m sorry I hurt you_, and she gasped when his mouth found her neck, and she remembered how she taught him that it was her apologising, her saying, _I will make it up to you_.

Enjolras pressed one last kiss to her neck before cradling her face between his hands again. They breathed each other in, and after a while, they found their rhythms have become more peaceful.

In the distance, they heard the familiar honk of Jehan’s old beat-up van.

They laughed together, and closed their eyes.

* * *

_And I can see the love in you_

**Author's Note:**

> The title and the lyrics you see here are from Dishawalla's song called "Angels or Demons". Smallville, anyone?


End file.
